


Eight Hundred. Eighty. Eight.

by EikaPrime



Category: Splatoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26646523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EikaPrime/pseuds/EikaPrime
Summary: Eight Hundred Words. Eight Days.Eighty Words. Eight Hours.Eight Words. Eight Minutes.It didn't take long for one Octoling's life to change. And it doesn't take many words to tell what happened.Partially inspired by one conversation in the Cozy Cove, but it went rather out of control from there.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Eight Hundred. Eighty. Eight.

Mollusca tugged at the uncomfortable collar of her North Country Parka. It smelled of salmonids. They'd traded for it. She couldn't pay it any mind. The blinking LEDs in her glasses told her she couldn't. She was one of the youngest eight Octarians to ever get seaweed. She had a mission.

Somewhere in Inkopolis, King Octavio was being held hostage. Other Octarians infiltrated Inkling businesses and living areas. Mollusca's task was different. Young inklings, those around her age, participated in battle rituals. Some parts of Inkopolis were inaccessible without participating.

So she wore the stupid jacket that constricted her neck over her normal armor and traded her boots for bare feet and a 'friendship' bracelet that would let Octarian Command find her in eight days. She tied her head tentacles in a style that made her suckers less distinct. And then she went and, with perfect Inklish, strolled into the lobby of the battle ritual building and said, "May I participate?"

One pathetic gun and an alley full of balloons later, Mollusca wasn't sure whether to be insulted or pleased. Inklings were dangerous. That 'test' was pathetic. But no other Octarian had been there, and she'd searched it for King Octavio. Then she took a deep breath, changed her ink color to orange, and went somewhere called Moray Towers.

Moray Towers was all highs and lows and ramps, and it took six 'turf wars' there to be sure she'd gotten under and over and around every section of it, inking her way around and avoiding the actual fights so as not to blow her cover. The respawn pads work for the inklings, of course, but Mollusca knew all too well what could happen if you relied on those.

Piranha Pit was a place with a stupid name and even stupider conveyor belts. In the lobby after, a pair named the Squid Sisters (also stupid) announced a Splatfest, to the cheers of inklings and Mollusca's confusion: arguing about which half of shrimp food was best? Inklings weren't just insane, they may be cannibalistic—but she signed up for Team Callie anyway, because heads are more important than tails.

Not every battle ground was available all the time. Mollusca had to plan her moves. Walleye Warehouse was only one building, but it took ten matches to escape the boundaries and explore the machines themselves. Blackbelly Skatepark barely took an hour, and then even the prodding of her glasses, urging Mollusca to keep looking, went silent. She got to enjoy the most amazing meal she'd ever had using some of her turf war winnings while waiting for the stages to change.

Saltspray Ridge. Urchin Underpass. Arowana Mall took five rotations, and she finished with an entire new outfit her glasses wouldn't permit her to wear. Kelp Dome. Flounder Heights. Mollusca nearly drowned a dozen times at Mahi Mahi Resort. Ancho-V Games. Hammerhead Bridge. After one match at Museum d'Alphonso, her excited chattering teammates almost dragged her to a store, where she emerged with more wonderful weapons, blasters and chargers and rollers, firing at different speeds and with different bombs, than she'd ever known before. Her glasses urged Mollusca to take the weapons back to Octo Valley for study... and she would. After testing them on Camp Triggerfish and Bluefin Depot.

The splatfest began on the last night. Mollusca had searched every battle stage only available during those battle rituals. She had more knowledge of inkling fighting techniques than she knew what to do with, and she'd demonstrate them soon as the seaweed was secure in her tentacles again.. She had weapons for their combat engineers to drool over.

But she hadn't searched Inkopolis Plaza yet. The LED's in her glasses wouldn't stop reminding her. Splatfest takes place at night. She'd have her chance then.

While the inklings around her bounced and whispered and giggled, Mollusca stayed silent and watched the sunset. The sky streaked in reds and oranges and yellows and pink like her ink. These rainbow inklings don't appreciate it, her glasses reminded her, _nor did they deserve it._

When it's dark enough that she'd be hard to notice, just one more figure moving and celebrating, Mollusca stood.

So did everyone else as lights blared so bright Mollusca's hands flew to her eyes and all was noise as the Squid Sisters started the splatfest with music.

Mollusca's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

The LED's flashed messages, but none of them mattered. Beats and melodies and harmonies wormed their way into Mollusca's skull, past orders and expectations and ideas she'd forever obeyed. Be free, they urged her. Do as you wish, when you wish. Let no one command you.

All Mollusca had ever done was listen. To the music of Octarian Command. And the flashing lights of her glasses and goggles.

~*~*~*~*~

Mollusca tore her glasses from her head and threw them at the dark-haired inkling. They landed amongst flowers and headbands and boxes wrapped in ribbons and shiny paper. She tore at the bracelet around her ankle, but that stayed fast. She'd have to return underground for the key to remove it.

Mollusca abandoned Inkopolis. No one expected her underground. If she got the bracelet off before they came to retrieve her, she could escape. And be free as an Inkling.

~*~*~*~*~

Mollusca could've beaten Agent Three. But they fell.


End file.
